Heatwave
It wasn't insignificant, either – a degree or two could be the result of too small a space or because of multiple guests in an apartment but this increase had nothing to do with either.
He swore. It wasn't as though he'd ever trusted the Feds to keep their word, but once they'd immunized the entire country, there wasn't much citizens could do about it, and Pal had to admit that he'd willingly gone to the clinic for the shot once he'd seen enough data convincing him it would keep him safe from H-PAS. For twenty years the disease had ravaged human kind, easily surpassing both AIDS and cancer in pure numbers affected and rising to the top of the mortality charts in every nation that kept medical records. Its exact method of transmission was still unknown, and all types of elaborate protective systems had sprung up, each as ineffective as the last in keeping those behind them safe. After two decades of research, the Feds announced that they'd developed a sure and certain immunization, though they could do nothing for those who already had the disease.
Pal had been lucky – only his brother and two aunts had passed away from H-PAS, and he was able to get in on the first wave of immunization thanks to his job as a firefighter. Surprisingly, there had been no side effects, and he began to think that the worst just might have passed, that humanity might have managed to weather the crisis unscathed.
Of course, that was when the deaths began.
First were emergency services personnel and heavy machinery operators, but the Feds blamed it on the stress of their jobs and potential pre-infection by the H-PAS virus. Next were athletes and celebrities shooting a new generation of films in tropical locations, far from the still-diseased shores of the country. Rumors began to circle and then fly that heat was triggering some kind of reaction to the immunization, something the Feds vehemently denied.
Once the Minister died, however, and a responsible doctor managed to get a look at him, the secret was out. Suddenly, the Feds were willing to talk about the “potential for increased risk during times of elevated heat”, and admitted that the shot they'd given out so freely came with a sinister potential. If an immunized citizen became too hot, too quickly, their internal organs would liquify. Anything above one hundred degrees Fahrenheit was deadly, and even the low nineties could start the process.
Pal checked the thermometer again – eighty-seven and still climbing.
Those in northern climates didn't have to worry so much; a working air conditioner in summer and making sure not to dress too warmly in winter kept them alive and healthy. In the south, the Feds had promised air cooling units to every citizen paying a mortgage or rent in any city or town, and had actually made good on their promise. But in true Fed style, they hadn't updated their power grid in anticipation of a record heatwave, and cities across the Southern Belt were teetering on the edge of disaster.
Not for the first time, Pal considered downing the vial of H-PAS he'd smuggled out of a call to a lab-fire. He'd been out of a job anyway as of the end of the month, thanks to the city scrapping the fire service altogether. Ostensibly, it was because they were worried about the condition of first responders, but in truth it meant more houses burning down due to shoddy electrical work done on government cooling systems, and less units to keep up and running.
Another degree slipped by, and Pal felt panic start to rise along with his bubbling internal temperature. He didn't want to die – least of all by being boiled alive in his own skin. The few Internet videos he'd seen of the process were more horrible than he could have possibly imagined, and just about any other way out would be preferable.
A crackling sound came from outside as one of the speakers the Feds had installed on every block came to life.
“Remain calm,” a woman's voice said. “Rest assured, we are working on the situation. We expect to have cooling restored to your portion of the city in -” there was a pause “eight hours.”
Eight hours! Pal clenched his teeth hard not to scream. In four hours he'd be lucky to be alive, let alone able to make it another four. Turning, he grabbed the glass vial from his coffee table, pulled the stopper and downed it in one long pull.
Satisfaction bloomed, followed by a horrible realization. H-PAS had never been tested in pure form again the immunization – what the hell had he done?
The world swam in front of him, and he could feel his legs getting weak. Maybe it was the H-PAS, maybe it was the heat, or maybe he just couldn't take the pressure any longer, but he sagged to the couch, then rolled face-down onto the floor. It was over.
***
He awoke to the sound of screaming, and struggled off of the floor to look out over the street below. Bloated corpses lay everywhere, piles of bodies being rummaged through by rough-looking men and women in long coats. Transients, from the look of them, but why weren't they dead like everyone else?
Why wasn't he?
The thought startled him and he glanced down, terrified of what he might find. A light blue coating met his eyes, one that seemed to cover every surface of his body. Bringing his hand to his face, he could feel a slight pulse of cold, as if his fingers were degrees cooler than the air around them.
Another look outside confirmed the conclusion his brain had already made – the men and women looting also wore the same blue skin. They were the non-immunized, those on the fringes of society the Feds had been willing to sacrifice, but here they were, looting the bodies of those who looked had down on them.
It was the H-PAS.
It was the only explanation, though it wasn't like it made crystal-clear sense. Pal stomped to the door, anger replacing the panic that had consumed him earlier. There was a Federal building nearby, and he was sure he was in better shape than those looting below. It was time to find some answers.
- D
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